


The Tapestry

by Sakubato



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 07:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20635334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakubato/pseuds/Sakubato
Summary: For two years Hermione has poured everything she felt for Harry into a project, the only family hs efelt she could give him. Now it's complete and ready, just in time for his 18th Birthday. but how will he react?





	The Tapestry

_ Done! _

Hermione sat back in relief, popping her fingers to loosen them and grinned at her work. The giant loom sat before her, its ancient frame slightly twisted with age but still serviceable. Its weave was a shifting black, with a single golden ring in it. It seemed so plain, so simple, yet so much had gone into it. Layers upon layers, enchantment over enchantment, until she had this. She set the shuttle aside, and carefully began to extract her masterpiece.

It had started as such a simple idea, the perfect idea really, for Harry's birthday. She’d found him in Grimmauld place one day the summer after fifth year, staring at the family tapestry in the den. She had watched him for quite a while, noting the longing and regret in his eyes as he stared at it, and she had her idea. The one thing Harry desired more than anything was family. His Family. And she decided to give it to him. She knew he wouldn’t let her give him a real family, no matter how much she wanted to, so a tapestry would have to do. She began to read books on old magic and research family tapestries. It seemed like a monumental task, but Harry was worth it. She would weave him a true family Tapestry.

It had been a chore, a monumental task. First was finding an old weaving loom. That had seemed impossible until she enlisted the aid of Professor McGonagall. She had searched all summer for one, but nowhere was there even a hint. Minerva McGonagall actually had one it turned out, last used hundreds of years ago. It was old, misused, and in desperate need of repair, but she had her loom. It had taken the two witches’ weeks to repair it enough to begin.

Next had been enlisting Professor Vector’s help in restoring the runes. Most looms would weave themselves in the magical world using charms, but only a few could enchant. Those that could used runes, very old, very obscure runes. Two months had been spent with the Runes professor finding, verifying, and etching the runes in the appropriate places. Not just any runes though, these were runes specific to weaving a family tapestry, runes to pass the magic of the weaver on to the thread. 

Finally, in conjunction with all the repair work, Hermione had to learn the incantations she’d have to say as she worked. Professor Flitwick had helped there. It was an old and nearly lost art, very few still knew or even had the knowledge to weave such a work. Each pass required three separate chants, and each direction of travel had different chants as well. Another while sweeping, knotting, and various other tasks. And all the while, she had to let her magic flow through the weave, the loom, and herself. It was a long process, fraught with frustration and aggravation, but finally, just after Christmas of sixth year, she was ready to begin.

The last requirement caused the most trouble though. To weave a family tapestry, certain requirements had to be met by the weaver. A high level of magical ability and power were required, as the tapestry was powered by the magic fed it from the weaver. It would take time, and be a very draining process, but she could handle that. The larger issue was the emotional requirement. The weaver had to either be the matriarch of the family, designated as the equal of the head of house, or unrelated yet loved and loving of the head. There could be no intimate contact however, for that would interfere with the emotional and magical content of the weave, disrupting the tapestries ability to follow the lines. Hermione knew she met the requirement, she’d loved Harry since fourth year after all, but to avoid him, to keep him away, was going to kill her.

Keeping Harry unaware was difficult, oh so difficult. Even harder than pretending to be interested in Ron was watching Harry pine over Ginny. She still wasn’t sure that had been natural, the suddenness of his feelings, and how they seemed to come and go. Who knows, maybe he was trying to figure out himself. Either way, she’d done little flips of joy when he’d broke it off with her, though her heart had seized as he gave his blessing of her relationship with Ron.

She’d eventually had to tell Ron her plan, at least, the part about staying away from Harry, if not why. The requirement to weave a family loom was tied to the magic. The weaver must have a love, the more powerful the better, for the recipient, but not be romantic with them. And she knew if given half a chance, she’d try. She did almost try when Ron threw one of his fits during the hunt and left. The dance in the tent, Harry’s attempt to cheer her up, had ended not because it hadn’t worked, but because she was too tempted to kiss him, to confess her feelings, but this was more important.

Watching him go willingly to his death two months ago, to face Voldemort alone, had torn her heart out. She had been half a heartbeat away from throwing everything away and kissing him. So close, so close….

And now it was done. It had taken almost two years to complete, between everything else that had gone on, but it was done. And just in time for Harry’s 18th Birthday.

  
  


Harry smiled as he unwrapped the last present, a new set of seeker gloves from Ron.

“Thank you Ron, these will be nice to have this year.”

“Still think you’re barmy for going back,” Ron grinned as they hugged, “Kingsley offered us guaranteed entry into any department in the Ministry but you choose to go back to school? Mental.”

“I told you Ron, I need time to figure out what I want.” Harry sighed, repeating his reasoning once more. It was only the same reasons he gave him every time it was brought up.

“Still mental.” Ron grinned.

“If you say so, but at least I'll have Hermione with me.” Harry grinned back, then frowned. He looked back at the table with the gifts, noting who had given each and his frown deepened. Turning to his best friend, he asked suspiciously, “Uh, Hermione? Not to be greedy but where’s your present?”

“My present is in the other room, Harry.” Hermione grinned, “I’ll show it to you later, it’s kinda personal.”

“Hermione…” 

“No, personal for you, you prat.” She slapped him playfully on the shoulder. Then she leaned in and whispered. “I think it’s best to wait, because you may not be very good company afterward. I expect lots of emotions.”

The Party took several more hours to wind down. The Weasley twins unveiled a few new products from their store, to much amusement, even from their victims. An overly drunk Parvati had tried to start a game of magical truth or dare, which both Harry and Hermione shot down rather quickly. It finally wound down, with the last event being the most heartfelt. Throughout the night, memories had been shared, memories of those lost. Lily and James, Sirius, Cedric, Remus and Tonks, Mad-eye, even Dumbledore a time or two. Finally, as the party was ending, shots of firewhisky where passed around, and a toast given to those that were left behind.

Harry extracted himself from Ron’s third goodbye hug and sent him into the floo to go home, laughing as his drunk friend tried for hug number four.

“Go home you fool, I'll see you Sunday for dinner at the Burrow,” Harry said, avoiding the hug. “Now go home.”

“He always gets huggy when he’s drunk,” Hermione commented softly from behind Harry as the Floo flared green.

“I knew there was a reason I don't let him drink often.” Harry said as if remembering a great wisdom. Then turned to his best friend, “So why are you still here? I thought you went home a while ago.”

“You still have a present to unwrap,” Hermione said softly, nervousness in her voice evident.

“Hermione…” Harry started, then was stopped by her fingers on his lips. 

“No, I was serious, it’s in the next room, and I don’t know how you’ll react so I wanted you to see it alone, away from everyone else.”

She pulled him through the doorway into the next room, his den. He didn’t spend much time here, much preferring his living room or the kitchen, but it was a nice quiet room. A few padded armchairs and a comfy couch, along with another fireplace, and a lot of bookshelves made it a cozy reading nook. In fact, Hermione probably spent more time here than he did, for this was usually where he found her waiting for him.

On one wall though, was a wrapped package, like he’d expect a painting to be wrapped. Harry paused, stunned, this was not what he was expecting. It was a couple feet on a side, its gold wrapping shimmered and called to him. He took a step towards it before he stopped himself, looking at Hermione for permission.

“Go on, unwrap it.”

Slowly, as if afraid to break it, Harry unwrapped the gold clad frame. It had a simple wood frame, but it looked alive, like the vines carved into it were real. As he exposed the canvas he was surprised that it wasn’t canvas, it was woven. Dark, almost black but not, deeper almost, the only thing on it was a single circle. The circle was golden, wreath wrapped and glowing slightly.

“It’s…. amazing Hermione.” Harry started, clearly confused. “What is it?”

“Do you trust me?” Hermione asked, her voice right by his ear.

“Of course,” He turned to find her right behind him, something unidentifiable in her eyes.

“Do you really trust me?” A hint of fear in her voice now.

“Absolutely,” Harry assured her, pulling her into a hug.

Slowly, reluctantly, she pulled herself from the embrace. Pulling his hand, she turned him around, and holding it near the weave, produced a thin needle. Looking to him for confirmation, seeing him nod in blind faith that she would never lead him astray, she pricked his finger.

Harry flinched at the prick, then watched as Hermione squeezed a single drop of blood onto the pad of his Finger. Pulling it towards the golden circle, he barely heard her whisper, “Happy Birthday Harry.”

His bloody finger touched the interior of the golden circle, and stuck. The ring glowed and moved, circling one way then the other, and then burst into light. As his vision cleared, his finger was free and he saw the frame moving as well, expanding. The circle now showed his portrait within it, barely bigger than his thumb, but growing, and his name appeared on a banner below it. And from the circle grew limbs, like a tree growing. Forks and joins flowed as the frame expanded to meet the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. He stared in awe as to his portraits left, two more appeared, and pictures of his mother and father filled them, their names growing on banners below. He followed the expansion, each picture sprouting more above or below, even beside it as the tree grew and flowed. In the end, over three hundred pictures and names appeared, each with a name below them. Pairs representing parents appeared beside each other joined by silver threads, blue and pink threads expanding down to the ones below them, showing male and female children respectively.

“A family tapestry,” Harry murmured, awe filling his voice as he traced path after path through the tree. He turned, looking at the wonderful woman who had given him such an amazing gift. Her eyes were down, her shoulders slightly cowered, as if expecting something bad. “Hermione?”

“I… I hope you like it Harry” Her voice was demure, fearful of rejection.

“Of course I love it Hermione,” He pulled her into a crushing embrace, “It’s almost everything I ever wanted. But how? Why did you do this?”

“You wanted a family,” Hermione explained, “It’s the one thing you always wanted. I knew you wouldn’t want me to give you a real one, so this was the best I could do. I hope it’s enough.”

“Enough? Of course it’s enough…” Harry paused, pulling back, his hands holding her shoulders. “Wait, what do you mean you didn’t think I'd let you give me a real family?”

“You…” Hermione blushed so hard it probably reached her knees, “You’re Harry Potter, I never had a chance with you, to give you a real family.”

“Oh Hermione,” Harry sighed, disappointment lacing his voice, “I thought it was me who didn’t have a chance with you.”

“Me?” Hermione looked up in shock,  _ He couldn’t mean what I think he means, could he? _

“Yes you,” He smiled, his eyes full of… of something that just melted her heart. “Ever since the fourth year, I tried to find someone close to you, the unattainable woman of my dreams, but never could. Someone Beautiful, brave, loyal, brilliant... and who didn’t see the Boy-Who-Lived, but just Harry. I never did though, could never really. Do you mean to tell me you thought the same of me?”

“I….” Hermione screwed up her courage, “Yes, I've loved you for years Harry, but never thought I was worthy. There are so many others prettier than me…”

“Hermione,” The raw desire in his voice stopped her. “You were the only one worthy.”

His hand moved from her shoulder to cup her face, pulling her in and kissing her. It was light and soft at first, but as she returned it, it became heated and passionate. Each releasing year of unrequited feelings. Their embrace deepened, their hands wondering as they gave in to their feelings. 

As their kiss continued, and magic flared around them, enveloping them, neither noticed a new picture appear on the tapestry behind them. A bushy haired girl appeared beside a raven haired boy, and a golden thread joined them.

Later that night, as the culmination of a lot of talking and a lot more action occurred upstairs, yet another, much smaller, circle appeared. It was tiny, not more than a stitch or two in size, joined to the pictures of Harry and Hermione Potter by a thin, pink thread.


End file.
